


Addiction

by LadyP15



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Addiction, Love, Lust, M/M, Thommy Monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6469756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyP15/pseuds/LadyP15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas tries to distance himself from his addiction but his addiction has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> Many many moons ago, I read a Tsubasa Chronicles AU where Kurogane went to AA to talk about Fai. I can't remember the author's name or the title but it got me thinking that Thomas would probably try and do something similar. So whoever wrote that full kudos to you as you inspired this.
> 
> This is my contribution to Thommy Monday so enjoy :)

Thomas leaned his forehead against the cabinet mirror and watched his breath fog the glass. It wasn’t often he was prone to moments of self-reflection, but the current situation had caused him to hide himself away. He just needed a few minutes to collect and gather his thoughts, just a few moments to escape the influence of his addiction.  
Maybe addiction was a strong word, it wasn’t as if he was an alcoholic like his father or had a serious gambling problem, he could hold his own thank you very much, but he knew when the deck was stacked and when to walk away.

This was more like an infection and illness that had rooted itself in his very soul. It had spread through his veins like a poison and imbedded itself in every cell so that the only thought was repeatedly filled with constant wanting and need that could only be temporarily satisfied, and then the need would return just as desperate as before.  
He had tried to unsuccessfully to hide the effects that this illness? Ailment? Disorder? Had taken on him. But cant have been completely successful as it was only this morning that Anna had asked if he was well?

When he assured that her was in perfect health. Her lips had thinned and she had tilted her head in that annoying knowing look. She had answered him with a “well it can’t hurt to drop by Dr.Clarkson and get a check up”. 

He had given her a smirk and stubbed his cigarette out. He hadn’t bothered to reply but had flicked his coat tails out as he is exited the servant’s hall, so he had hoped she had got the overall message. But now, looking at his reflection maybe Anna had a point? His lips were slightly swollen, if he bent down his collar, he could see that there was a cluster of small bruises, he had a bit of temperature and his stomach was constantly acting as if he was missing a step on the stairs. It was nothing Dr. Clarkson could help with though.

The problem was that at first, his obsession? Dependence? Didn’t look particularly hazardous but isn’t that the way with most hook-ups? Cravings? Like plotting with Mrs O’Brian the first time there was a twinge of guilt, but seeing some goody two shoed stuck up servant get reprimanded, was so satisfying that when you did it enough times you got addicted. His impulsion? Weakness? Was like that too!

He should have known better at 33, when someone served you something so inviting it was bound to have a dark underbelly. There didn’t seem to be any harm, but now looking at his own hands there seemed to be the same jitteriness that was seen in opium addicts. But unlike a drug, the source of his desire had this gold skin that looked as if the skin’s ray had kissed every inch of it. Thomas had to be only in the same room as it that he wanted to reach out and touch, kiss, caress and before he knew all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of its neck, just nuzzling and enjoying the softness.

And the eyes! The eyes too were a continuous fixation for him. At first they seemed to be so sharp and constantly laughing, but looking at them long enough he could see they were riddled with insecurities, he didn’t think it was possible for a pair of eyes to hold so many anxieties. But this pair did and it only made it impossible to refuse them when they started to begg for him to stay the night. They always seemed to be half filled with lust and half filled with worry that Thomas would turn him down and mock him. As if he would! He was bewitched and unable to put up any defense. Sometimes he thinks he could get lost in that fathomless silvery blue.

It wasn’t just the eyes, the hair too had a hold over him. It’s the colour of honey and has shades of amber and shone gold in the moonlight when they stand side by side alone in the courtyard. When not coated in pomade, there are so many cowlicks, Thomas just wants to slide his hands through it. When his head is down there, he does. It even tickles nicely when it brushes the inside of his thighs, not that he usually likes that kind of thing, but it just makes the experience so much sweeter.  
But the truly deadly seal on his enslavement? Impulsion? Where the lips. Plush and so so so soft, it was impossible to resist the cocky smirk and that was it. Just a small twitch of a smile and he was gone, up against a wall in the stables, quickly across the table in a deserted servants hall, squashed in an unused storage cupboard and once rather memorably against a willow tree after taking shelter from the rain. 

These three symptoms led to the ultimate knee shaking sex. Thomas thought he had his fair share of earth shattering orgasms. He had served in the trenches for Christ sake, taking advantage of when even the straightest of boring married man suddenly felt inclined to have a role in the hay. He had walked away from such encounters feeling pretty smug in the knowledge that he would always have the upper hand, always in control of his pleasure, never being submissive.

But with him, the boy had truly undone him. It had only been yesterday afternoon that he had been crowded down onto a mattress and had had his knees pushed apart. Which had been followed by a lot of sucking and teasing, until Thomas had to grab a pillow and press his face into it just to try and stifle the wails of pleasure that he was emitting.  
His heartbeat increased and he cringed just remembering the breathy moans of encouragement he had failed to suppress. Thomas took a breath and tried to think of boring things like the spinach that had got stuck in Lady Edith’s teeth last night, or the unused silver that needed arranging and cleaning but would never likely be used or Mr Carson’s unattractive bushy eyebrows. None of it worked.

The worst part, the very worst part, was the withdrawal symptoms. Which included: Grouchiness; impotency; sleepless nights; twitchiness; loss of appetite and helplessness. After a small spat or a disagreement over cards on some trivial matter, when his amore wouldn’t even look at him, he felt that any symptom of this persistent craving could easily be carried as long as this bleak barren landscape of hopelessness would just end.

He heard movement in the hallway and the golden source of his craving? Affliction? Poked his head around the door.

“Thomas, what are doing up here by yourself? You’ve been gone ages.”

Thomas straightened up but didn’t turn around. Instead he focused on fiddling with his already perfect bow tie. 

“In polite society its considered courteous to knock. Leave I’m busy!”

“Doing what?” he sounded amused. 

Thomas made the mistake of making eye contact in the mirror and saw his malady? Weakness? All in his cocky glory. Thomas watched as he swaggered up behind and stood slightly on the balls of his feet to place his chin on Thomas’s shoulder. He placed his hands on Thomas’s waist and gave him a small squeeze. Thomas swallowed and wondered if this was the part where he should be running in the other direction, even if that direction would be a cliff.

“Trying to get over my addiction,” he mumbled, trying to ignore the amazing scent that had now started to cling to the back of his frock coat and would now likely follow him around all day.

“What addiction? Smoking?” he said bewilderedly. “I love your smoking. It makes you look like a smug dragon whose just found a new hoard of gold to plunder”.

Thomas’s lungs tightened as he felt the boy’s arms settle on his lower stomach and interlock with his own fingers.

“No, not smoking something else”, he muttered. The young man raised an eyebrow and continued to look puzzled.

“Okay, but how do you expect to get over an addiction while staring in a mirror. Is this a Barrow tradition that has been handed down through the generations?” He teased, whilst giving Thomas’s waist another squeeze, which causes Thomas’s heart to palpitate.

“I was managing perfectly well, thank you. Until I was rudely interrupted”.

He meets Thomas’s eyes in the mirror and his brow crinkles, a moment or two passes and a look of amusement washes over his face. His eyes twinkle and he bites his lip to keep himself from giggling. Trying to compose himself he pressed his nose and lips into the crook of Thomas’s neck.

“Oh, so that’s what bothering you”. Thomas could feel his smug smile against his skin.

“Well, this method is clearly not working, so perhaps you should try small amounts rather than total abstinence. Daily amounts regularly rationed will help you find your addiction so much more manageable,” he stated matter-of-factly. Letting go of his waist he makes Thomas turn around and places his hands on either side of his face.

“Don’t look so worried”, he whispers, the sinful lips now travelling across his cheekbones and trailing feather light kisses across the side of his face.

Hovering just near his left ear, he mummers, “I wont let you overdose”.

With that Thomas walks him sharply back till he has him pinned against the bathroom door. His drug of choice has consumed him and he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
